


Sing a Song  of Golden Geese

by kirana



Category: Smallville
Genre: Holiday, Humour, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-27
Updated: 2005-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-03 00:36:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirana/pseuds/kirana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The twelve days of Christmas, Smallville-style</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing a Song  of Golden Geese

        It had all started innocently enough. Clark had mentioned the Twelve Days of Christmas, research into which had been prompted by the song of that name and a general curiosity of just _what_ the twelve days were.  
        Then, on the twenty-fifth of December, the first of the twelve days, Clark had found a partridge, complete with pear tree, on the porch.  
        It wasn't a _real_ partridge, he'd discovered when he examined it, but it _was_ a very convincing fake. Its perch, however, was real enough, a fact that had delighted his mother to no end.  
        Clark, of course, demanded an answer from Lex.  
        "It's all in the name of research," Lex had said innocently. "I'm just trying to help you out, Clark."  
        But Clark wasn't one to take such a challenge lightly. The next day, Lex had entered his office to find two turtledoves perched side by side on his desk. His not-amused-ness had been appeased only slightly when he'd noticed anything irreplaceable had been neatly put away.  
        As a result, three french hens had innocently joined the more common ones in the Kents' hen house. That evening, Lex was invited over for supper and treated to a taste of his benevolence.  
        Lex was not surprised to find four birds signing their hearts out in his bedroom the next morning. Not surprised and not amused, either, since they'd started their singing at four in the morning.  
        It was sweet, sweet revenge, however, to see the furious blush on Clark's face when he found the velvet box of five gold rings. They were threaded together in a ladder with a length of leather, masking the entirely too fanciful thought he'd had when he'd counted out the days and known this one was his.  
        The sixth day had brought another invitation to the Kents' home. There he was gifted with three fine white geese; the other three graced the table, testament to Clark's appetite.  
        In return, Lex courteously responded with a set of tickets to an excellent production of Swan Lake for the whole family. Granted, it didn't entirely obey the rules of the song, but he hadn't been sure how the Kents would have reacted to the appearance of seven actual swans.  
        This show of creativity, of course, spurred Clark on to match it. Alas, eight milkmaids could not be found, but he could and did arrange with a neighbour for a tour of his milking facilities. The result was Lex swearing off milk for life and a Lexian shudder when Clark pointedly downed a huge glass of it when the tour was finished.  
        The condition of nine dancing ladies of the next day was filled, and more than, when Lex took Clark out to see the nightlife of Metropolis. He had hoped for another blush, but had gotten the surprise of his life when Clark greeted the exotic dancers by name. Clark, unsurprisingly, wouldn't say how he knew them.  
        Ten lords a-leapin' was a reprise of Swan Lake, courtesy of several odd jobs around Smallville, or so Clark said. Lex had attempted to argue that you couldn't use one thing for two days, but Clark said he'd tried to get the football team to help him out and, in the end, Swan Lake was a lot cheaper.  
        Lex had toyed with a tour of the city's sewers, that satisfying both the requirements of the day and his sense of vengeance, but changed his mind when he realised he'd have to be there as well. Instead, a selection of pipers, including two dueling bagpipes, made the journey into Smallville to play for an audience of two.  
        Somehow, Clark had "picked up", in his own words, tickets to a highly acclaimed showing of Drums of the World. When pressed on how he'd been able to afford them, Clark had smiled angelically and repeated his tale of odd jobs. Odd jobs they had to have been to be able to pay for two of the rare tickets, but Lex had to remain unsatisfied as to the real source of Clark's apparent affluence.

***

  
        January six dawned cold and windy. Lex stared out his office's window—well back to escape the cold bleeding off of it—and frowned at the absolute whiteness of a Kansas blizzard. He and Clark had made plans for the day, of course, the last of the twelve days of Christmas, but he wasn't sure Clark would be able to make it.  
        He cast a sour look at the beautifully inlaid boxes on his desk. Gold, frankincense, and myrrh, traditionally the three gifts of the magi to the newborn Christ. Perhaps it _was_ better to delay this by a day. They were, he was forced to acknowledge, slightly out of the realm of usefulness to a farm boy and, in his experience, too expensive to be accepted. And, despite the wealth of time in which to decide, he hadn't been able to come up something acceptably symbolic to replace them. Maybe a King's Cake, baked by his own lily white hands, could be made to fit the occasion.  
        He picked up the phone one more time, but the dial tone remained silent. Obviously, repairs to whatever phone line had gone down would take a little while longer. Until it was fixed, he would have no way of reaching Clark to make sure he was okay. Logically, he knew Clark might as well have been born and bred in Kansas, so a winter storm, even of this magnitude, was hardly something to worry over, as long as one took all the proper precautions.  
        The phone rang and he dropped it in surprise. Then he scowled and knelt to pick it up and put it back on its cradle. No, it was his cell phone and, given the way the day was progressing, it would be his father on the other end. He brought it out of his pocket and took the call.  
        "Lex."  
        "Hey, Lex, have you looked outside yet?" Clark's voice sounded inordinately cheerful. It also made Lex want to hit himself in the head. Just because _his_ phone was dead didn't mean _everyone's_ was. "I guess a line's down near you, huh? I tried calling the castle, but I couldn't get through. Hey, you're not doing anything today, are you?"  
        Finally, a place he could get a word in edgewise. "Yes, Clark, I've looked outside," he said, glancing briefly at the howling wilderness that was, presumably, his garden. "No, I wasn't planning on going anywhere." He deliberately turned his back on Mother Nature and moved closer to the fireplace. "How're things at your end of the line?"  
        "Oh, pretty much what you'd expect. Wind, snow. Wind _and_ snow." A pause. "Snow."  
        Lex laughed. "As good as that, huh?"  
        "Yeah, as good as that. Hey, since you're not going to be doing anything, mind if I come over?"  
        Lex blinked. He had to have misheard that. "Clark," he said slowly. "It's snowing fit to bury a mammoth. The road conditions are hardly suitable for a drive."  
        "Oh, I won't be driving," was Clark's far too cheerful reply. "See you in a few!"  
        Lex was left holding a dead receiver. He turned off his cell and slowly slid it back into his pocket. That conversation was quite possibly the strangest one he'd had, even in Smallville. And it hinted—well, hinted was such a _soft_ word—very nearly outright shouted at secrets Clark had always, in an interestingly ironic turn, shouted at Lex in a rather defensive manner whenever Lex had pressed too hard about them. And _that_ sounded far too good to be true. Lex assumed he was simply experiencing a very realistic daydream.  
        That is, until there was the sound of hesitant footsteps in the hall. Bemused, he turned to see Clark standing framed in the doorway. They looked at each other for a moment, Lex still half-convinced this was a particularly convincing hallucination, Clark looking . . . hopeful? Hesitant? The moment was broken when Clark noticed he was dripping snow and former snow on Lex's floor and began industrially brushing himself off, as if purposefully brushing it off was somehow better than letting it drip off any old way.  
        Lex knew he had somehow lost a significant amount of time. That was an explanation infinitely more acceptable than Clark being so careless with his secrets.  
        "Lex?" Clark had come over to stand in front of the bald man. He looked concerned. "Are you feeling okay?"  
        "Of course," Lex said immediately. "I just lost track of time, that's all." And hearing and possibly seeing if Clark _had_ managed to make it across Smallville without, as he had said on the phone, taking the truck.  
        Clark looked at him dubiously. "Oooookay . . . ."  
        Lex snapped into action and moved towards the drinks cooler. "Can I get you something?" he asked Clark, hand hovering over a mixture of Tynant—his—and various carbonated beverages—Clark's. At Clark's demurral, he retracted his hand without getting himself anything, either. The severity of the storm may have been his imagination, but he wasn't in the mood to chill himself further with a cold drink.  
        "Are you sure you're all right?" Clark asked again as they settled themselves, Lex on the couch, as usual, and Clark, in a surprising change, sat on the other end of the couch. The brunet usually sat in the chair beside the couch, the size of it signifying solitude—comfortable solitude, but solitude nonetheless. Clark usually appeared uncomfortable if Lex maneuvered him into sitting on the couch, something with the implicit potential to _not_ be alone, and, when he'd chosen it of his own free will, it was for a favour and, rarely—once, actually—a confession. Lex couldn't wait to hear what CLark could possibly want badly enough to brave, to his city-bred eyes, a snowstorm of intimidating power. At least, if one wasn't a Luthor.  
        "I suppose it's not as bad as it looks," Lex said, gesturing to the window. "I mean, if you walked all the way from your place."  
        Clark nodded slowly. "I guess it's not the worst one I've ever seen," he said, "but I wouldn't exactly call it meek. I didn't see anyone else on the roads, I know that."  
        Cue _more_ confusion for Lex. It could have been a dream. THe one, perhaps, where Clark declared his undying love—or lust; his dream self wasn't that picky—for Lex and told him all his secrets. It _could_ have been, but Lex didn't think he'd confuse his dream self with all the blatant inconsistencies.  
        "Lex, are you _sure_ you're alright?" Clark asked for the third time. He moved closer and placed his hand on Lex's forehead. "Do you have a cold or something?"  
        "Why?" Lex asked, taken aback. "Do I have a fever?" It hadn't been a possibility he'd thought of and further consideration counted it as unlikely, given his more than robust constitution.  
        Clark removed his hand and frowned at it. "I dunno," he said thoughtfully. "I kinda have trouble with anything only a little cooler than me."  
        Lex blinked. Okay, so he wasn't exactly ignorant of Clark's curiously high body heat, but only through casual touches, nothing that had ever been said. This was starting to hurt his head.  
        "Lex?" Lex grabbed the hand Clark was waving in front of him and frowned. "Don't look at me like that! You're the one staring into space!"  
        Lex sighed and released Clark's hand. "Sorry, Clark," he said, rubbing a finger between his eyes. "It's been a . . . strange day." To say the least.  
        Clark relaxed and leaned back into the couch. "Yeah, I guess I can see that," he said, grinning. "This storm kinda blew in without warning."  
        Lex made an effort to get his thoughts together. "So, what can I do for you, Clark?"  
        "I'm sure you've done some research, what with all the 'twelve days' stuff," Clark began. Lex narrowed his eyes, but allowed the evasion for the moment and nodded. Clark grinned and nudged his shoulder against Lex's. "Yeah, me, too. Anyway, I found a couple places that said on the last night that animals were given the gift of speech."  
        Lex snorted in disbelief. "Tell me you didn't brave the weather to let me know what Betsy said to you last night."  
        Clark shrugged. "Not exactly, but I kinda of got to thinking. Animals talking, right? Momentous revelations and all that, proclaiming their love of everything 'human'." Lex raised a skeptical eyebrow and Clark laughed and raised his hands. "Yeah, so I had trouble with that, too."  
        They sat in silence for a moment before Lex sighed. "Why are you telling me this, Clark?"  
        Clark shrugged again and Lex thought he saw an eager gleam in Clark's eyes for a moment. "Just . . . sharing the information," was the brunet's innocent reply. "Hey, I bet I know what we could use. Some fresh hot chocolate. D'you know if there's any here?"  
        Lex had been almost constantly confused since Clark's call earlier. Everytime he thought he had a handle on what was happening, Clark said something else and wrenched it away from him.  
        "I'm just going to go take a look, okay, Lex?" Clark stood up and grinned down at him. "I won't be long."  
        Lex watched Clark leave the room and sagged when he was alone again. Since Clark had called, he felt like he hadn't had a moment in which to think and thinking was something he desperately needed to do.  
        He shifted over and reached into his pocket for his cell phone. It was the work of a moment to access the call history and he checked the time his conversation with Clark had ended. That should help him in figuring out how long he'd stood without noticing the passing time. After all, he knew how long it took to walk from Luthor Mansion to the Kents' farm in good weather, much less what was happening outside, which was anything but _good_ weather.  
        He glanced at the clock and then back at his cell. That couldn't be right. According to that, the call had ended not half an hour ago. That was nowhere _near_ enough time.  
        God, this was giving him a headache. What had possessed Clark to be so careless? Did he think Lex was blind? First, the time it took for the 'walk', then the _weather_ at the time of said 'walk', and then his strange relating of the animal-speech myth! He could've just come out and said, "Hey, Lex, I'm an alien and in love with you," couldn't he have?  
        There was a thump as Lex fell off the couch. His next words would be heard all the way in the kitchen, where Clark paused in his search for cocoa to grin.  
        "**_Clark, what the hell were you thinking_**?!" 

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a gift-fic for Suz. ^^


End file.
